Up to this juncture, the ink has been

My number one hiding spot.

Previously, I hid behind

Smoking mirrors a lot.

But, that was back then…

Pryor, before Richard

I hid behind smoking mirrors

But, I’ve stopped now

Since… They evaporated.

I also stopped because

I got diagnosed with second-hand chain-smoking.

The ink that was in the pen

That was in my hand was so hot,

The chains that bound me

Began smoking.

The other day

It all came together

When I saw Two Chain

In the video… Smoking 

While on the smoking note,

I heard ’em say

‘Where there’s smoke there’s fire’

Guess they’ve never encountered incense.

I live with “Gass-musketeers”,

They burn it profusely,

I asphyxiate,

Then I provoke insolence.

It’s things like these

That makes me wanna keep

Everyone at a distance

And I’m a natural recluse,

All I need to do

Is to be me to be at a distance

And at this juncture,

There’s not much to do anyway,

So I just sit in a daze.

Sometimes, I’m thoroughly surprised

If I manage to imagine the days

When there are no more smoking mirrors, 

And there’s no more smoke from incense

And no more sunken heart

‘Cause I’m tall as fuck

And reaching down is such a distance,

And no more melancholic spirit

Because now, those examples

Use me as an instance,

And no more reminding people

‘Cause I just hate it

When I use persistence.

I pledge allegiance to the pen.

Previous articleCompromised by Health
Next articleParental Guidance Is Advised
Peculiar "Ph D" Khumalo, born and bred (and buttered) in White City, Soweto, the liveliest township in Africa in 1987. Attended Boarding School at Bophelo Impilo and Matriculated in 2007. While his erudite endeavours do not venture beyond Matric, he had long been told he had a way with words, a hype he still has a hard time believing. "Of all the pleasures of life, I relishes nothing more than a conversation over coffee" ☕